


What Once Was

by Blacklacelilacs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia fic, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacklacelilacs/pseuds/Blacklacelilacs
Summary: A botched mission results in Hanzo forgetting everything that has happened to him for the last 12 years, including killing his brother, reuniting with his brother, joining Overwatch, and falling in love with Jesse McCree. Fortunately, his dragons remember everything, and they are eager to get Hanzo to remember as well.After all, it's their 4 month anniversary soon, and Hanzo wanted to surprise the cowboy.





	What Once Was

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% self indulgent. I regret nothing.

_Beep… beep…. Beep… beep…_

_What the hell was that incessant noise?_ Hanzo groaned as he slowly awoke from his sleep. It was probably Genji’s phone, left laying on the floor after he fell asleep at the _kotatsu_. Hanzo attempted to ignore it and go back to sleep, Genji could answer his own phone. He still felt exhausted, so it was probably still early. Hours of video games with Genji left them both falling asleep near dawn. Father would be angry with them for that. He was already angry with them for spending so much money at Rikimaru, having gotten into another eating contest with each other, nearly getting sick from bowl after bowl of spicy ramen. If only Genji could simply get up and answer his stupid phone, he’d be able to put off the inevitable chew-out for at least a couple of hours.

_Beep… beep… beep… beep…_

_Wait a minute… that’s not Genji’s phone..._ It certainly wasn’t Hanzo’s phone either. Hanzo forced his eyes to open, only to quickly squeeze them shut again. That was _not_ sunlight, and the den did not have such harsh lights. What the _hell_? Where was he?

“Hanzo?” That was Genji’s voice, at least. Although, why did he sound worried? Slowly opening his eyes once more, Hanzo turned to look at his brother and –

_That isn’t Genji._

Who was this Omnic? All matte white panels and chrome, with green lights, the Omnic certainly was Genji’s idea of cool, but unless their father had gotten Genji a present this morning, that didn’t explain anything about where it came from. Before Hanzo could speak, to ask who the Omnic was, he noticed the room behind the Omnic. Stark white walls, rows of beds separated by curtains, the beeping equipment – _a hospital room?_

“Brother, can you hear me?” _Brother?_ Why did it call him that?

“Where am I…?” Hanzo slowly asked instead, mind still hung up on the fact he appeared to be in a hospital of some kind. As he awoke further he became aware of more sensations that made no sense – pain in his right ribs and hip, as well as his legs and left shoulder. As if he had been beaten, or in some kind of accident. Neither he nor Genji had been drunk last night, so Hanzo automatically dismissed the idea that they had gotten into a brawl again.

“The medical bay, in Gibraltar? You know, the Watchpoint?” _Gibraltar?_ Wasn’t that near Spain? What the hell was ‘The Watchpoint’? Hanzo did not mean to voice these things, but as the Omnic sat back in it’s chair, he realized he must have.

“I – you – you don’t remember? That’s a joke, right? Hanzo, that’s _not_ _funny_,” the Omnic said, further disturbing Hanzo with how much it sounded like his brother. Where _was_ Genji, anyway? Or at the very least, their father?

“I am not joking, Omnic,’ Hanzo snapped, starting to getting annoyed with the thing. “Where are my brother and father? Why am I here, in a hospital bed?” Trying to sit up, Hanzo glanced down at his body, only to pause.

He… looked different. His body was a bit wider than it used to be, both with muscle and a thin layer of fat, and though the changes were subtle, something about his body felt distinctly _older_. A lot older.

_What the _hell_ happened?_

Next to him, the Omnic began to shake slightly, gripping it’s seat. “Oh no…” it said. “Oh no… _Angela_!” The Omnic bolted from it’s chair in a streak of green, disappearing through a doorway to Hanzo’s left. Within moments it returned with a woman, thin and blonde and wearing a medical coat. The doctor here, Hanzo assumed. She bore an odd, halo-like headset and carried some sort of staff that looked more suitable for a fantasy battle than a medical ward. It took Hanzo several moments to recognize it as a Caduceus Staff – rare technology, indeed, even for his family to have access to.

“Hanzo,” the doctor, Angela, spoke, causing Hanzo to look back towards her. “Tell me, how do you feel? What do you remember?”

“I _feel_ terrible,” Hanzo said, lips twisted in a sneer, more towards the pain than towards the doctor. “And the last I remember, I was with my brother in our home, in Hanamura. I don’t understand what’s going on.” Angela and the Omnic looked from him, to each other, then back to Hanzo. At her request, Hanzo told Angela exactly what he remembered – the ramen shop, the confrontation with their father, the video games – but she only seemed to grow much more concerned with every word. Next to her, the Omnic began pacing back and forth, muttering to itself, a bit like how Genji did when he was upset. Hanzo was only growing more frustrated, for his part, as well as disturbed by the similarities between the Omnic and his brother.

“_Angela_,” the Omnic pleaded. “_Please_ tell me you can fix this!”

“Fix _what_?” Hanzo barked. “_What_ is going on? Where is Genji?”

“_I’m_ Genji!” The ‘Omnic’ cried, distraught, head in his hands as he stopped by Angela’s side.

“Wh- _Genji_?” Hanzo said, confusion only growing. “What are – why are you in that armor? What happened?”

“How long ago did this memory happen, Genji?” Angela asked, ignoring Hanzo’s question for the moment as she turned to Genji.

“Almost eleven, twelve years ago? Has to be, if he remembers Father being there,” Genji said, not looking up from his hands. Hanzo’s frustration bled away to cold fear as the words seemed in.

“What do you mean, eleven or twelve _years_ ago?” Hanzo asked, fisting his hands in the sheets around him enough to turn his knuckles white. Looking down again, his body _definitely_ looked older now that he had sat up more. He bore scars he didn’t recognize, too old to be part of whatever caused the fresher injuries. Hanzo almost asked for a mirror, but was unsure if he wanted to see his own face.

“What year do you think it is?” Angela asked him. Hanzo hesitated to answer, fearing what the _real_ answer was.

“2064?”

“It’s 2075,” Angela said with a sigh. Hanzo’s eyes widened as he processed the words, face draining to be as white as the linens of his bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, the sound of a distant door opening caught his attention.

“Angela? You in here?” The rich, drawling voice that reached Hanzo’s ears lit a fire within his belly, stoked by every soft jingling footsteps. He could faintly smell a cigar, and somehow he _needed_ to see the person on the other side of the door, for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

“In here, Jesse!” Angela called. Three rapid footsteps and suddenly the door frame was filled with a man Hanzo did not know, yet was compelled to run to and leap into his arms. Warm hazel eyes settled on Hanzo, and that handsome face split into the most beautiful smile Hanzo had ever seen, joy and relief glowing off him.

“Hanzo, darlin’, thank God you’re awake!” The stranger, Jesse, cried, stepping forward as if to hug him. But Genji – _dammit, Genji_ – stood up and stopped him, a hand on the cowboy’s broad chest. _Genji, get out of the way!_ Hanzo wanted a closer look at the strapping cowboy before him – and if the cowboy wanted to hug Hanzo with those strong arms of his, Hanzo suddenly found himself quite alright with that. He had always known he had a thing for cowboys, but _this_ cowboy seemed to know him.

“McCree, no, you don’t understand -”

“Gimme a break, Genji! After that cock-up of a mission -”

“It’s not that simple -”

“Boys, _quiet_,” Angela snapped at them. Hanzo almost laughed at how quickly Genji was silenced by the doctor – only their mother had gotten a reaction that quickly. “Both of you, out. I need time to explain everything that’s happened to Hanzo.”

“What do you mean, ‘everything that’s happened’?” Jesse asked, raising one eyebrow. Hanzo found himself struggling not fixate on watching the way his face moved. Why was such a handsome face so familiar to him?

“Hanzo’s… lost his memory,” Genji said, the wince audible in his voice. Immediately that beautiful face fell into confusion and dread.

“Lost his – Hanzo, darlin’, don’t you remember me?” Jesse asked, turning to Hanzo. Hanzo tenses, eyes locked with the cowboy, wracking his mind for something, anything, to tell him who the cowboy was. But he hesitated, and that was enough of a tell. Realization filled Jesse’s eyes. “Hanzo?”

“I… it would be cruel to lie to you…” Hanzo said, barely more than a whisper. Hanzo was not at all used to the emotions swirling in his mind, and he greatly resented the feeling. Under normal circumstances, he would think nothing at all of admitting he had forgotten someone that wasn’t another crime boss, or an informant, or someone else important. He was the heir to the Shimada-Gumi – not everyone he met was worth remembering. But this was _clearly_ _not_ normal circumstances – this cowboy _meant_ something to him, and Hanzo meant something to Jesse as well. He _was_ important.

Hanzo’s stomach twisted at the sight of so much pain in Jesse’s eyes, growing with every second. “What _happened_?” Jesse asked, turning to Angela and Genji. Angela sighed, getting up and gathering a file from a nearby counter top, giving it to Genji.

“Genji, please take Jesse into the hall and explain Hanzo’s injuries – you may as well prepare for the inevitable.” Jesse looked like he was ready to protest, but Genji managed to usher him out anyway. Hanzo didn’t know if Genji was somehow her assistant now (_Genji_? A _doctor’s_ aid? It seemed ridiculous to him), or if he had simply been out for a while. Angela brought her chair to Hanzo’s bedside but didn’t sit just yet. Instead she took several minutes to run further tests on Hanzo – making sure he was otherwise well. Only once she was satisfied with the results did she sit to speak with him.

Angela spoke slowly, kept the details simple, and seemed to try to be sensitive as she filled him in on the details – despite this, every new bit of news sent Hanzo reeling. His father, dead. His clan, weakened and divided. Meeting Overwatch, meeting Jesse (who, Hanzo was secretly delighted and guilt-ridden to discover, was Hanzo’s boyfriend of four months). But Hanzo could tell Angela was weaving around a very big piece of information.

“And Genji?” It wasn’t _quite_ an accusation, but Angela seemed to wince as if it were.

“You will not like hearing that. I doubt you have liked anything you have heard but this… this is worse.” Hanzo frowned, dread and confusion rising once more – _worse? How?_

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with Genji?” Hanzo turned to look to the window next to the exit – he could just make Genji’s shadow as he spoke to Jesse. He could not hear either of them, but Genji seemed to be removing the strange armor he currently wore.

“Genji is – well, it’s that armor he has...” Angela seemed to be struggling not to squirm now. _What was that armor?_

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Angela once again reached for a file – this one seemed old, but still frequently used, as if it held data gathered over years of time. On the label tab he spotted, in a loopy scrawl, ‘Shimada, Genji’.

“Ten years ago, Genji… was seriously injured. I genuinely thought he was going to die. I almost didn’t even get to save him because the rescue team thought he was dead. It took hours to get him stable, he didn’t wake up for three days. His entire right arm was gone at the shoulder, and his lower legs were so mangled they had to be amputated at the knee. His back had been broken in several places. We had to invent several new types of prosthesis just to keep him alive. That armor is part of his prosthesis – much of it cannot be removed.”

“Who is responsible for this?!” Hanzo barely stopped himself from yelling, white-hot anger surging through him. Who had _dared_ to do such a thing to Genji? _I swear when I get my hands on the son of a bitch that’s _mutilated_ my little brother…_

“You are, Hanzo.” Rage plummeted into shock, then prickly, icy horror.

“… What?” It couldn’t be true. There was _no way_ it was true. This was _Genji_ they were talking about. Hanzo had never loved his father or the elders, and could hardly remember his mother – Genji was the only true family he had, the only person he cared about in the entire damned castle. Genji was his only real friend in the entire city of Hanamura, in all of Japan.

So why was the doctor looking at him like that?

“Genji has never spoken too much about it. Not to me, anyway. He said that, after your father passed, there was more pressure on you both from the elders to fill his role. One day you two met to talk about the elders and their expectations. Talking turned to arguing, then arguing to fighting. Weapons were drawn… I don’t know what happened past that, he won’t tell me. By the time we got to him, everything was over and Genji was alone in an alleyway near the castle.”

“This… I don’t… why would I…” Hanzo gripped his legs below the sheets around him as if they could anchor his spinning thoughts. _This is a bad dream_, he told himself. _This is a bad dream and I’ll wake up in a minute and everything will be fine. Genji will be fine. I didn’t… didn’t…_

The door opened once more, Hanzo spotted Genji’s armored legs just past the doors edge. However, his face stayed hidden behind the door, and Hanzo felt sick at the realization that, no, this probably was _not_ a bad dream, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“Doctor…?”

“It’s alright, Genji, come in,” Angela said without turning. Two steps and Genji was inside the room once again, but for a moment Hanzo didn’t recognize him. He saw Genji’s feet first – no longer flesh but metal, built to replicate bone and muscle and joints. The prosthesis ended all the way above the knee, which Hanzo could only see due to the boxer-like, medical-issue shorts Genji now wore. A thin tank-top, seemingly also medical-issue, was now covering Genji’s chest, but it did nothing to hide the metal in his abdomen or the fact that his right arm was indeed cybernetic, but also took up a significant part of Genji’s chest. Mesh formed his throat and metal reshaped his jaw. Hanzo could see part of the base of his skull was also reformed.

It was true. It was all true. Genji was… Hanzo had...

_By the gods what have I done?_

Genji seemed perfectly aware of Hanzo’s staring, but did not respond to it. Instead, he asked Angela for a moment alone with Hanzo. Hanzo barely registered their conversation; it wasn’t until Angela walked out and Genji sat in her place that Hanzo snapped out of it enough to speak.

“Hanzo -”

“What have I _done_ to you?” Genji sighed at Hanzo’s words, his metal hand coming up to run fingers through his hair. A familiar gesture, a sign of Genji forcing patience through distress. Yet it seemed wholly unnatural now.

“A lot, but I am not angry with you, Hanzo.”

“How can you sit there, in that condition, and _not be angry_ with me?” Hanzo asked, voice rising more than he meant. “How can you even _look_ at me? How do you not _hate_ _me_?”

“I _did_ hate you. For a long time I hated you. But Hanzo, that was _over a decade ago_, and hating you accomplished nothing. I got over it, brother. It’s not that bad anymore. And I know you’re sorry – you’ve proven that to me by now.” Genji’s voice did not raise with Hanzo’s as it would have before. His face did not twist in irritation or exasperation. Once more Hanzo barely recognized his brother – relaxed, clear-headed, patient, understanding. Not at all the drug-and-alcohol-fueled mess Genji was before.

“You’re calmer than before…” Hanzo said, struggling to form thoughts into sentences. “You hardly seem the same at all.”

“I suppose I’m not the same. Like I said, it’s been more than a decade – between Zenyatta’s teachings and the passing of time, I’ve tried to change for the better.”

“Zenyatta?” Hanzo asked. _How many people have I forgotten?_

“He’s my friend, lover, and teacher.”

“Not surprised to learn you’re sleeping with your teacher.” Genji snickered in response to that, and for the first time since waking Hanzo felt some of his dread lift. That was still Genji’s smile, at least.

“Fair enough, I deserve that,” Genji said. “It was actually Zenyatta that found you and started healing you until Mercy could take over. If not for that, you could be in a much worse state.”

“Then I owe him a thank you,” Hanzo said. “Where is this teacher of yours now?”

“Brigitte is doing some repairs for him – ah, but I don’t think you remember Brigitte.”

“No, I am sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Genji said, sitting back in his chair. “You’ll be re-introduced to the others once Mercy has finished her work to heal you. We spoke over it while you were asleep. She told me that, if you did wake up with amnesia, it would likely fade after long enough around familiar faces and surroundings.”

“Good,” Hanzo said with a sigh. “I already tire of not remembering anything. How many people have I forgotten?”

“Quite a few. There’s Ana and Jack and Echo and Bastion and Winston – oh _gods_,” Genji’s mismatched hands came up to hide his face. “_Please_ don’t make it weird when you meet Winston and Hammond.”

“Why would I make it weird?” Hanzo asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Because Winston is a talking gorilla that wears glasses and Hammond is a giant hamster in a weaponized roller ball.”

“_Now_ you’re just fucking with me,” Hanzo barked with a laugh. Genji just shook his head.

“I’m _not_, though. Athena!” Hanzo blinked as Genji looked up at the ceiling. Only now did he notice the tiny metal box in the ceiling tiles. Some sort of sensor? “Can you help me out here?”

“Certainly, agent Genji. A photo should be proof enough for now,,” came a voice from above them, feminine and robotic. A screen along one wall that Angela has set up for medical presentations lit up – the image it left had Hanzo barking another laugh. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at – an honest-to-gods gorilla in glasses and some kind of space suit, next to a hamster in what really did look like a weaponized roller ball.

“You really aren’t kidding…” Hanzo said, shaking his head. Part of him wanted to bark at Genji to cease the nonsense – because _surely_ this was nonsense – but the words did not come out. For as much as it seemed like nonsense, it also felt normal. That he knew both of these individuals enough to not be bothered b what they technically were.

_This is going to be a strange few days…_

Angela did not allow them time to talk much longer – but Hanzo was somewhat glad for that. Genji seemed eager to get him caught up, but Hanzo and Angela both felt that slower introductions would be easier to process. As Angela shooed Genji out once more to finish healing Hanzo, the pair promised to meet up again when she was done, promised to have Ramen together like old times. For now, Hanzo simply lay back in his hospital bed, glowing in the field of Mercy’s Caucasus Staff, and tried to let his mind rest, hopeful his memories would return soon.


End file.
